


your hair was long when we first met

by poetsinthealley



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, just me writing the fic i wanted to see in the world, regina spektor - Freeform, samson by regina spektor, yes this is a songfic what ABOUT IT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25063561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetsinthealley/pseuds/poetsinthealley
Summary: you know that song, samson by regina spektor? well, i had gansey and ronan act it out word for word because i wanted to see it. no, i do not ship them in the long term, yes i think they kissed. viva pynch, viva sarchensey, but gansey and ronan totally kissed.
Relationships: Richard Gansey III/Ronan Lynch
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	your hair was long when we first met

Gansey wasn’t asleep when Ronan came to his bed. Neither had slept in a long time. Ronan stood still, his hand on the headboard and his eyes trained on the ground. Gansey rolled over to face his friend. When the silence hung too heavy, Gansey said, “Ronan?”

“Can I lay with you?”

“Of course.” 

So tired, so sad, so unguarded, nothing was strange. They fit together automatically, Gansey’s chest pressed into Ronan’s back. Ronan always kept his face turned away when they laid like this, never one to let people watch him cry. Gansey brushed a strand of Ronan’s dark hair behind his ear, letting the curl lick around his finger like a flame. He did it again, and again, and again until Ronan spoke.

“I want to cut it off.”

“Your hair?” Gansey whispered.

“It makes me look like him,” Ronan said. “I want you to cut it all off.”

“We can get a pair of clippers in the morning.”

Ronan sat up. “I want you to do it now. Use scissors.” 

They walked to the bathroom together, a pair of vintage scissors clasped in Gansey’s hand, his glasses in the other. The dreary fluorescents flickered on, the microwave clock read 5:09. Gansey sat on the counter and Ronan stood facing away from him, back pressed into knees. 

Gansey lifted a strand of dark hair. “How short?”

“As short as you can,” Ronan said. His voice was hollow, lower, rougher than it had been before. 

So Gansey cut, letting the discarded hair fall onto his pajama pants and Ronan’s shirt and the floor. No process, no plan, just him, Ronan, and the scissors. By the time all of Ronan’s hair had been cut off, not a word had been spoken. Gansey brushed the nape of Ronan’s neck with the back of his hand. “Done,” he said, sliding off the counter.

Ronan turned around to face himself in the mirror. His mouth trembled, unsure of what emotion it wanted to express. “Not bad, Dick.” He no longer looked just like his father, he also no longer looked like himself. He looked older. He was older. 

“Ronan,” Gansey said as if the single word could express everything he wanted to say. 

Ronan turned around and gently, quickly kissed Gansey. Their lips separated but their bodies stayed the same, faces close, noses overlapped, breath shaky. They kissed again as softly as the first time. Gansey stood still, Ronan leaned in, hungry, desperate. 

When they parted, Gansey could see Ronan was crying. 

“Not now,” Gansey said. “Not like this. Not us.”

“Please.” Another tear slid down Ronan’s cheek. 

“No. You know I love you,” Gansey said. “I think you’re the first person I’ve ever loved. But this isn’t us. You know how I love you.” 

“Fuck you,” Ronan said. He left Gansey alone in the bathroom.

He lost track of time sitting on the toilet lid, picking traces of Ronan’s hair out of his flannel pajama pants. By the time he left the bathroom, the sun had started to rise. 

Ronan was waiting on the far side of Gansey’s bed, freshly shorn head on the pillow, eyes closed but not asleep. Gansey took his own side, careful not to let their bodies touch.

“I’m sorry,” Ronan said. 

“I’ll never mention it again if you don’t want me to.”

“Please don’t.”

Gansey closed his eyes. “Ronan.”

“What?”

“The way I love you… I don’t love you in that way. But someone will.” 

“I don’t think that’s for me,” Ronan mumbled.

“I’m not sure you’ll have a choice.”

Gansey felt an arm drape over his chest and a head of short hair brush his neck. He wrapped his arms around Ronan. They slept. 


End file.
